Moments in Music
by Meddler
Summary: Tiny stories inspired by music that follow Sherlock and his experiences with a woman he meets in a coffee shop.
1. First Meeting

**Each short will be inspired and include a random song in my itunes library. Each chapter will form a story about Sherlock and a young woman he meets. Some Fluff will form. Please R&R! **

He walked into the heated coffee shop sighing in relief from the cold. He had found the place recently working on a case regarding the man who lived in the apartment upstairs. It was a tiny place, with dim lighting, and a handful of tables that could comfortable fit two maybe three people. There was one more table available, and Sherlock swooped in quickly to claim it.

He took off his coat and placed it on the chair, keeping his scarf on. Sherlock had been struggling to keep busy while John was on his honeymoon. He was determined to crack this case he had been working on for two days now. A boy had gone missing, and he was almost certain the boys uncle had taken him, but he was unable to prove it.

"Mind if I sit?" asked an American voice, disrupting him from his thoughts. "All the other tables are taken."

The detective looked up at her, clearly bothered by the interruption, "Yes, I do mind."

The young woman narrowed his eyes at him and turned away, "Alright."

"Where are you going?" He asked not looking up from his papers,"I said I minded, that doesn't mean you can't sit.

Looking under the curls that fell in front of his eyes he saw her smile and quietly sit down, pulling out a lap top. For an hour they worked in silence.

"What did you say?" Asked Sherlock looking up from his work.

"Oh, nothing, I was just singing, sorry."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"what?" He asked.

"Pardon?"

"What were you singing?"

"Oh," she giggled," Dancing with Myself,by...Billy Idol I think." She pointed to the speaker above them,"it's playing."

He nodded and returned to his work. A short time later she got up and waved, " I have to go," as she pushed in the chair she smiled," nice meeting you."

He showed no acknowledgment of her presence, but as soon as her back was facing him, he watched her walk out the door, and continued to follow her with here eyes until she was out of sight down the street.

* * *

><p><strong>This song was Dancing With Myself- by Billy Idol<strong>


	2. Ice Breaker

**This Chapter's Song is Break the Ice-By Britney Spears!**

**Please Follow, R&R, and comment!**

* * *

><p>A week later Sherlock heard the voice again.<br>"Do you want anything?"  
>"Quiet." He responded shortly, not looking up.<br>"Tea or Coffee?" She asked placing her laptop on the table.  
>The detective remained silent, flipping through a packet of papers.<br>Minutes later she placed a cup next to him, careful to avoid his work.  
>"I went on a hunch, and got you Lady Grey."<br>"I don't have any notes to pay you back." He said finally looking up, his facial expression softening.  
>"It's on me."<br>"Oh."  
>"Abby."<br>"Excuse me?"  
>"My name is Abby."<br>"What are you doing?"  
>She smiled as she sat down,"Just trying to break the ice."<br>She opened her laptop and began typing. Sherlock quickly examined her, while her focus was on the screen. Her accent showed she was from New York, she was young enough to still be a student, and the critical view she gave to whatever she was working on hinted that she was an English major."  
>Later that afternoon she began to pack up, "Bye."<br>She half waved and headed out the door.  
>"Sherlock."He said looking up at her. "My name is Sherlock."<br>She smiled widely creating a noticeable dimple on her cheek.  
>"I like that."<br>And without another word she walked out of the shop


	3. Acquaintances

**Smile-Il Volo**

* * *

><p>"You don't smile much." Abby stated sitting down at the table, a custom that they had now both gotten used to.<p>

"I'll be sure to work on that."

"Really?"

"No, of course not."

"Funny, bloke." She sighed sipping her coffee. "What is a bloke? I still don't understand what it means."

"You've been here about 8 months and you still haven't caught on?"

"I like it when you do that." she said leaning her cheek on her fist, as she looked out the window , "The whole deducing thing. Seriously though, what does it mean?"

"It means person, slang for a man, like 'guy'."

"Like, ' Will I ever get this stupid bloke to ask me on a date"?"

"Basically, yes."

" Why does this bloke not smile?"

"Again correct.

"When will this bloke realize I am talking about him?"

"Still corre- Oh"

She smiled, "Now you get it."

"You must understand I am completely dedicated to my work."

"I am not asking you to cheat on your beloved wife, just go for a walk with me."

"I-"

"Please, you are the only person I really talk to in Britain."

"Liar, you have a roommate, you are wearing her socks. Laundry mishap I presume."

"Clever but she hates me."

"Fine, tomorrow meet me outside of 221 Baker Street."

"Clever bloke." She muttered, returning to her work.

Sherlock couldn't help but to smile. She wasn't boring, and Sherlock liked that.


	4. First Date

Don't Stand So Close to Me- The Police

* * *

><p>Sherlock had bought her a hot chocolate, and they walked side by side down the street.<p>

He explained the inner and outer workings of being a consulting detective, while she described an outline for a novel she was righting. Once the conversation drifted off she nudged him.

"Let's play 10 questions." She suggested.

"Stupid game."

"Favorite color?"

"Dark Purple. I hate this game. I already know all the answers."

"Really then? Fine what's my favorite color."

"Between blue and white, you wear them constantly even now." He tugged the collar of her white pea coat, and glanced at the light blue beanie on her head.

"Wrong."

"Wrong?"

"I only wear these colors because they fit me best. My favorite color is pink."

He scoffed, "How ordinary."

"Ask me a question then." She smiled linking her arms through his.

"Do you understand that I am dedicated to my work and studies, and that I have no interest in being in a relationship?"

Her smile faded and she shoved her hands in her pockets, "Yes."

"Do you hate your room mate?"

"Yes."

"Are you looking for a new place to stay?"

She sighed, "If I could afford a new place."

"Move in to Baker Street with me."

"HA!" She laughed, " Oh you are serious."

"As long as you remember, I do not have any interest in being in a relationship."

She smiled softly, "That's fine with me considering I am in a relationship already."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, "Oh, really."

"No, but I do promise I was not hitting on you."

He rolled his eyes, as they had finally reached Baker Street, "You are welcome to take a look inside."

She smiled and gestured towards the door, "After you."


	5. Moving in

**All For The Best- Hunter Parish**

* * *

><p>"I think I've unpacked everything." She sighed in relief putting her hands on her hips and looking around what was now her room.<p>

"I think I can feel really comfy in this place as long as I don't walk out there." She said gesturing towards the living room. "I think this is all for the best."

Sherlock silently walked around observing everything closely, "Do you cook?"

"I suppose.." She said sitting down on her bed.

"Good."

" I suppose I can sacrifice some of my time and make you food instead of poor Mrs. Hudson. She is such a doll."

"Very charming."

"Any plans tonight?" She asked, stretching out on the sheets.

"Plenty involving work."

"Boooring."

"It is very exciting actually you may like it."

"Show me then."

"Fine, follow me."

They walked into the living room and stopped immediately in front of a wall plastered with pictures.

"Disgusting." She muttered walking closer towards the pictures of bodies.

"Who knew something so beautiful in life could change once life itself ended."

She glanced at him sideways crossing her arms, "Poetic, but I was referring to the smell, is food rotting in here?"

"Most likely."

"Gross!" She squealed picking up several plates off the floor.

"Hardly." He said half smiling, as he watched her bring the plates to the sink.

"I am taking a nap before going out, to some crummy bar." She sighed, throwing her hands up in the hair as if to surrender.

"I thought you didn't have any friends." Sherlock questioned raising an eyebrow.

"I technically meant someone I trust."

"You trust me?" He asked, his tone slightly bemused.

"Well you haven't killed me yet." She laughed, walking up the steps to her room, "Clean up that mess down there!"

"Not a chance!" He called back, smiling as he picked up his violin and began to pluck it.


	6. Meeting Mycroft

**Umbrella-Rihanna **

* * *

><p>"He was always particular about his pets."<p>

Abigail looked up from the book she was reading from her seat in the armchair.

"I don't know you." she said looking up with a panicked expressision on her face.

"I don't suppose you do." The skinny man smirked twirling a black umbrella.

"Do I call the police?" she asked, scanning the room for a potential weapon.

" I don't mean any harm, just keen on meeting one of my brothers pets."

"I think your misinterpreting something."

"I never misinterpret, Abigial Parker, 22 year old journalist, third child of Henry and Cecil Parker, and longing to find a place is this boring world."

She was left speechless and red crept into her cheeks leaving her flushed.

"Tell my brother I dropped by." He smirked twirling his umbrella,"Lovely to meet you."

Later that evening when Sherlock came home , Abigail was in the kitchen cooking. "I have been here nearly a month and not once have you cooked a single thing."

"Why bother when I have you?" He asked sticking his finger into the pot of sauce then Bringing it to his mouth

"Prick!" She yelled hitting him with a spoon.

A comfortable moment of domesticity fell upon them.

They always ate dinner in the living room, set up in different chairs, busying themselves with work, occasionally letting conversation about there day interrupting them.

"I met your brother today."

"Oh." He said furrowing his brow.

"Funny thing is I think he likes me." She smiled bringing her plate to the kitchen.


	7. Awkward Encounter 1

**Dance With Somebody- Whitney Houston **

Sherlock looked up in frustration, he couldn't concentrate. For almost half an hour now, he heard muffled music coming from Abigail's room. The bass from the music was causing the floors to shake.  
>"Unbelievable." He muttered getting up from his chair and started for her room . For the last two months she had been a relatively decent roommate. She cooked, cleaned a bit, and was there for conversation if he needed it. She was good company and always knew when not to talk, but the music that was playing now was horribly irritating. Usually the only sound coming from her room was silence, besides the soft clicking of a key board.<p>

He swung open the door but apparently did not hear him. Some 80's pop song was playing, and like out of a scene from a cliche movie, she was dancing around the room.  
>Sherlock stared at her with bemused astonishment as she shook her hips in front of the wall mirror and sang into a purple hairbrush.<br>_" I wanna feel the heeeeeeAt with somebodyyy_."  
>Sherlock coughed loudly causing her to spin around in shock.<br>"OH SHIT!"  
>She frantically pushed the power button on her speakers, "Oh my god."<br>When she tugged her tee shirt down in embarrassment, that's when he realized she wasn't wearing any pants, just a pair of brightly colored floral underwear. How did he not realize that.  
>"I thought I locked the door." She gasped, covering her red face with embarrassment.<br>"You didn't."  
>"Oh, um...I was just.."<br>Sherlock interrupted her as he turned around to leave, " The music was just too loud. That's all.  
>She met him in the living room moments later wearing pants, "We won't talk about that ever again."<br>"Talk about what?" He said smirking.  
>She breathed a sigh if relief, "Exactly."<p> 


	8. Meeting John

**Who Am I?- Les Mis Cast Recording**

* * *

><p>Abby was walking up the steps of 221 when a man stopped her.<p>

"Excuse me, do you live here?" The short blonde man asked.

"Yes, 221B."

"There must be a mistake, Sherlock Homles live there."

"Yes, and so do I, I am his flatmate."

"Are you to... together?"

"What did you say your name was again?" she asked shifting her bag on her shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sorry, John." He half laughed sticking out his hand, "John Watson."

"Yes! Sherlock has mentioned you before!" She laughed, shaking his hand, "Come on in."

As they walked up there stairs Abigail explained, " We met in a coffee shop, and after talking for a while he invited me to move in. Just friends of course."

"Is he home?"

"He should be." She said unlocking the door.

Sure enough Sherlock Holmes was sitting in his chair, as if he had been expecting John this entire time.

"John you're back." He said smiling, with his hands perched under his chin.

"I've tried calling!" He complained, throwing his hands up in the hair.

"I wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon..."

Abigail turned around and went into the kitchen, feeling as if she was interfering with a personal conversation.

Later that evening John turned to Abigail, " So how do you find living with the incredible Sherlock Holmes."

"I've developed a lot of patience."

John laughed, " Trust me I know, has he left any body parts in the kitchen yet."

"I opened the refrigerator door once and found a foot!" She laughed, "And I found a torso in the shower once!"

Tears of laughter rolled down his face, " You poor thing."

"It's okay though," She said while taking a sip of her tea, "The next day I washed all his dirty laundry using heavy scented detergent."

"I smelt like a fruit basket the entire week." The detective mumbled, looking out the window with his back to them. They couldn't see the smile on his face


	9. The First Flatmate Fight

**Under Pressure- Queen**

* * *

><p>"Are you kidding me?!" Abby yelled, storming into the living room. Her light hair was in total disarray, and her pajama bottoms dragged on the floor.<p>

Sherlock looked up from his violin that he was up until a few moments ago playing, " I don't think I've told a joke."

"It is 3 in the morning, Sherlock Holmes."

"I can tell time."

"I have to work tomorrow." She said through gritted teeth, "Not only do I have to work, but I have a very important meeting."

"And?"

"I am under a lot of of pressure here Sherlock, and just for once I need you to be considerate." She sighed pinching the top of her nose.

"I'm on the verge of breaking a case." He stated, as though it was the simplest explanation in the world.

"It can wait until tomorrow." She groaned turning around and headed into the bathroom.

Moments later Sherlock heard a loud scream and a splash. Sherlock instinctively ran into the bathroom where he found a very defeated Abigail.

"Abby," he whispered, "I am afraid I forgot about that."

Abby was bottom deep in the toilet bowl, with her hands in her face.

"You didn't put the toilet seat down." She whispered.

She pushed him away when he reached down to help her. He walked away, putting his hands up as if to surrender.

Five minutes later he heard a weary call, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock returned to the bathroom, only to find Abigail still in the same spot with tears running down her face.

"I'm stuck."

They stared at each other, until a smile cracked on her face. She lifted her arms to him and sniffled. "Please."


	10. Bonding Time

**Little Help From My Friends- Across the University**

* * *

><p>"I'm bored." Sherlock said leaning against Abigail's door frame. He had no new cases, and no articles online caught his attention. He had absolutely nothing to do.<p>

"You want me to help?" She asked looking up from her laptop.

He made a noise in the back of his throat as he flopped down on her bed face first.

"What do you want to do?" She asked closing her laptop.

"Something interesting."

"You are acting like my nephew," She laughed crossing her arms, "He's five you know."

"Tell me about your family." He said rolling over to his side.

"When was the last time you slept?" She asked, noticing the purple rings under his eyes.

"Tell me about your family." He repeated ignoring her question.

"Let's see." she said thinking out loud. She brought her thumb up to her mouth to chew on, something she usually did while she was thinking.

"I have an older brother and sister. They're twins, but I have never met two more opposite people. Their names are Benjamin and Anna, they are 32, and are both married..."

"Banana." Sherlock said smiling.

"Exactly," She laughed, " Ben and Anna, are called Banana. Anyway, Ben has 3 kids, he's a lawyer, and has a knack for getting himself out of any situation..."

She went on for almost an hour, describing her parents, family vacation spots, and included embarrassing stories, like when she ran away from home because her mother had refused to let her stay up past nine o'clock.

When she was done, she looked down at a now sleeping detective. She smiled to herself as she stretched out next to him and closed her eyes.

_I am only resting my eyes._ She thought to herself.

Three hours later, Sherlock awoke to find himself with his arm around a sleeping Abigail. For a moment he let himself lie there, feeling at complete peace.

_You are married to your work Sherlock Holmes._

And with that he got up and walked out of the room.


	11. Home

**Empire State of Mind - JayZ ft Alicia Keys**

* * *

><p>"Something smells good." Sherlock remarked from behind his laptop.<p>

"I'm making pizza." Abigail called from the kitchen,"Or at least I'm trying to."

"Is that so?" Sherlock sighed, as he began to type a blog entry. How had John made this seem so easy?

"I haven't had any good pizza since I left New York."

"The pizza here is good." Sherlock said defensively.

"Not compared to New York pizza." She laughed, as she came into the living room.

"Do you miss it?"

"What's that?" She asked, distracted by the flour she was trying to brush of her jeans.

"Do you miss New York city?"

"Oh of course I do." She sighed sitting down on the couch next to him, breaking certain laws of personal space.

"I miss the hurried atmosphere, I miss the sunny city days, I miss the culture, I missed the fashion, I missed being at the source of what was new with the world, I miss the food, especially the sketchy gyro stands." She paused taking a deep breath, "I miss the concerts in the city! I loved going down to the city every weekend and buying tickets outside the venue for half the price from some sketchy man. I remember stumbling out of bars that didn't card and following cute boys to their apartment."

"That sounds dangerous."

"I laughed in the face of danger, Mr. Holmes. HAHAHA."

She smiled to herself and sighed, as if she was reliving everything all over again.

"Laughed?" Sherlock asked, "As in past tense."

"I had a bit of growing up to do Sherlock, no one is 18 forever." She said in a melancholy tone as she stood up.

"I need to check on that pizza now. I can't have it burn." She half heartily said, as she stood up.

"I'm sure New York misses you just as much."

"I don't think so Mr. Holmes."


	12. Chapter 16

**Follow Me- Uncle Kracker (you can even listen to it while reading)**

* * *

><p>Sherlock had not seen Abigail all day which was extremely unusual. Normally she would be out of her room and chatting idly about the weather, or movies, or even work, as Sherlock only partially listened immersed in his own cases.<br>"Abigail!" Sherlock called, "I need to think aloud, and I always do best when you sit and listen." Sherlock was alarmed about how 'nice' he sounded.  
>There was just silence.<br>Sherlock sighed and stood up. He needed the attention, and the only person available was Abigail, not that he really minded.  
>The detective stopped in front of her door, remembering to knock. An American country song was playing on a low volume and could hear the shuffling of papers.<br>"Come in." She softly called.  
>"Abigail I need your opinion on the literary structure of a person of 56 compared to that of-."<br>Sherlock stopped short, confused by the scene before him.  
>Abigail was sitting crossed legged on her bed with a box set in front of her. Spread across her bed were countless pictures, papers, and what seemed to be an old uniform.<br>"Sure I can help." She said softly, the rasp in her voice indicated she had been crying.  
>"What is this?" Sherlock asked picking up a picture.<br>The picture was of a group of high school girls with there arms around each other.  
>"2003." She said," I was 17."<br>Sherlock laughed out loud, "you dressed like this?" Pointing out the exposed mid drifts of the girls.  
>"That's me right there." She laughed pointing to a girl in the middle.<br>Sherlock's jaw dropped the slightest bit. The girl in the middle had short dark hair and a twig like figure. A piercing glistened on her naval and heavy makeup ringed her eyes.  
>"What can you deduce about that girl in the picture Mr. Holmes?"<br>"Well..."  
>"Or can you not make a deduction from a picture."<br>Sherlock stared at the picture for a moment, "Highschooler, private school, whatever Americans call the year before you graduate, drunk, chronic partier, marijuana user, had a boyfriend, maybe had an eating disorder, good student though, very sensitive, pampered, recent haircut, and..." Sherlock paused, staring quizzically at the picture and then at Abigail, "breast enhancements?"  
>Abigail laughed,"No just a really good bra."<br>Sherlock smiled and looked down at the uniform, picking it up, "This uniform is horrible."  
>"I hated it."<br>"And your crying about this because?"  
>She inhaled shakily," before I left for college, everything in my left went to shit."<br>He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to go to continue.  
>"I had a boyfriend, that I had been dating for 5 years, and I was in love, but apparently so was my best friend at the time. I guess he felt the same, because by the time he broke up with me, he and her were already 'pretty friendly'. The rest of my friends were supportive, but I was absolutely infatuated with this boy, so I just sat in my room on the weekends and cried. We were going to the same college, we both had already put down a deposit, and we both were majoring in English. Soon she got pregnant, but he broke up with her when she told him, claiming it wasn't his. When she realized she was alone she started blaming me, and people eventually take the side of the lonely pregnant girl. By the time I graduated everyone hated me, and I spent my summer alone."<br>"What happened in college?"  
>"I saw him everyday and did not speak to him once."<br>"Oh." Sherlock said, puzzled why this made her so upset, to him this seemed stupid and nonsensical.  
>"It's hard to explain, but I'm happy to help with whatever you need."<p>

'


	13. Job Interview

Faith- George Michael

"Shit... shit.. shit.. shit" Abigail muttered as she flew through the living room, while shoving an assortment of papers into her briefcase.

Sherlock looked up from his newspaper annoyed by the sudden disturbance.

"I'm late and I have a job interview." She answered a question he hadn't asked.

"I gathered from the outfit and the furrowing of your brow. You shouldn't do that you know... It ages you."

She stopped for a brief moment to shoot him a dirty look, "Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime."

Abigail rolled her eyes before disappearing into her room, only to reappear within seconds as she ungracefully shoved her arms through a blazer he had never seen before.

"New blazer?"

"Old blazer." She responded curtly as double checked the contents of her briefcase.

"Did you have it in the dryer recently?"

"Yes Sherlock."

"With your other delicates?"

She closed her briefcase with a loud clap, "I don't know Sherlock. Why?" Her sharp tone indicating her dwindling.

"Your underwear is stuck onto the back of it. Static from the dryer does that." He casually informed her before returning back to his paper.

"Oh my god!" She shrieked as she reached behind and yanked the underwear off her back. "Thank you."

Her face was flushed from embarrassment and nerves as she headed for the door. Sherlock could see her palms slick with sweat as she reached for the door handle.

"You'll do fine in your interview. I have faith in you." He called without looking up from his paper.

Abigail stared at him for a moment as her stress ridden features relaxed, "Thank you Sherlock."

She closed the door softly behind her, and he could here her hurried footsteps as she hurried down the stairs towards the street exit.

"You're welcome" He responded to an empty room.


	14. Observations

Where You Lead- Carol King

_Abby woke up with a start when she heard raised voices coming from the rooms below. Groggy and confused, Abigail slipped into her robe and softly padded to the door to hear more. Careful not to be seen she peered out to the flat below and spotted John and Sherlock working. Sherlock was pacing around the room, as John clenched onto a series of papers that he was shaking into the air.

"Sherlock, the evidence says-"

"Damn the evidence John it was the daughter that did it."

"THE UNCLE'S DNA WAS IN THE BLOODY ROOM!"

"It was the daughter! She was twitching in the interview room."

"Maybe she's got a twitch! What proof do you even have that she did it?" John cried out exasperated.

"None yet." Sherlock stopped pacing and looked at John in the eyes, "John. I know it was the daughter. We have to go through everything again."

A silence fell over the room as John and Sherlock maintained eye contact, and for a brief moment Abby felt as though she was interrupting more than just a spat between two colleagues.

"Alright Sherlock. Let's Go." John sighed as he broke eye contact and reached for is jacket.

"Excellent."

Sherlock briefly looked over and saw Abby standing there in her robe with an amused expression on her face. Besides the short look he gave her, he made no further acknowledgement of her presence.

"Let's hurry John. Every moment that passes is a moment DNA can be lost." Sherlock headed for the door with John closely following.

As soon as Abby heard the door to the flat close she descended down the stairs and into the kitchen. As she poured cereal into a bowl she couldn't help but think about the blind faith John had in Sherlock. Anything and anywhere Sherlock led John to, he would follow.

"He has a fucking spell on all of us." Abby laughed to herself as she headed back up to her room with her cereal.


	15. Dance Lessons

I Don't Dance-Lee Brice

"Do you dance?"

Sherlock turned away from the wall, which was littered with pictures from a new crime scene, "What?"

"Do you-"

"I heard you. I just don't understand what you mean."

Abby rolled her eyes as she got up from the recliner where she was sitting and walked towards the detective ."Can you dance? Do you enjoy it? Do you do it in your free time?"

" .I have no free time." Sherlock responded curtly before returning his work.

"I can't." Abby sighed as she crossed her arms and followed Sherlock's gaze to the wall.

When Sherlock did not respond, she continued, "I was invited to go dancing by this guy at work, but I can't dance."

"Is this your attempt at small talk?" The detective asked, annoyed by the interruption.

"I suppose it was." Abby replied cooly as she turned away and started for her room.

"What type of dancing?"

Abby stopped in her tracks and grinned, happy to finally get the detectives attention. "I don't know. Casual dancing?"

Sherlock winced, "There is no such thing as casual dancing."

"Well, what kind of dancing do you know?" she asked, crossing her arms and smiling.

"All types."

"Every single type?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

"I'm not."

"Prove it." Abby challenged.

"How?"

"Teach me how to.. Waltz."

"I doubt you will need to Waltz on your little date." Sherlock scoffed.

"Oh so you're admitting you can't dance?" Abigail teased.

The detective grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, "Fine, but you are interrupting my work."

Abigail was at a loss for words. It was so rare that they had any type of physical contact, a simple touch threw her off-guard.

"I do not mean to take you away from your precious wife." She responded breathily.

"The Waltz is very simple. Just watch my footing.." He commanded as he took her hand in his.


	16. Getting Ready

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones

"I made extra." Abigail said as she walked over to Sherlock offering a plate of food.

The detective took and and resumed staring out the window, something he had been doing for the past two hours.

"Are you working on a case?" she asked, sitting on the recliner.

"Finished this afternoon."

"So you're not busy?"

"Not at the moment. Just resting."

A silence fell over them as they both chewed their food.

"You should sleep then. You must be exhausted." Abby sighed, "I was just going to invite you to come out tonight with me and a bunch of pals."

"You have friends?"

"Yes Sherlock. I have friends."

"Interesting."

Another silence fell.

"Do you want me to deduce whether or not they like you?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his plate.

"If that means you'll go with me tonight." Abby smiled,"Everyone is dying to meet you."

Sherlock raised and eyebrow,"You talk about me? To your friends?"

"Sure all the time."

"Oh."

Sherlock felt an unfamiliar feeling of warmth spreading along his cheeks. He recognized it as blushing, something he had rarely done since childhood.

Abby stood up with her now empty plate,"What are you going to wear?"

Sherlock looked down at what he was wearing now, "This I suppose."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

Abigail headed for Sherlock's room,"Let's go look your closet."

Sherlock stood over Abby as she rummaged through his closet.

"Oh my God. Sherlock, what is this?" Abby gasped, plucking out a bright multicolored paisley shirt.

"My mother gave it to me for Christmas last year." He mumbled looking down at his feet.

Abby took a step back from the closet with her hands on her hips, "I guess what you're wearing is as good as it's going to get Mr. Holmes."

She glanced back over at him and grinned, "I'll still have the most handsome date there."

Sherlock opened his mouth in protest, but Abby quickly cut him off, "I know Sherlock, you are married to your work. It was a joke."

Abby smiled softly at him and reached up on her tippy toes, running a hand through his dark hair,"You'll have to brush this hair though."


	17. A Discovery

Landslide-Fleetwood Mac

Abby slowly walked up the stairs to the flat, exhausted from work. She had spent most of the day running around London trying to get interviews lined up for her boss.

"Hello dear." Mrs. Hudson called.

"Hi Mrs. Hudson how are you?"

"Lovely dear. Sherlock must have been gone, it's been quiet as tomb all day. A nice change."

Abby smiled weakly at the landlady,"Good to hear Mrs. Hudson."

She proceeded up the steps and unlocked the door.

"God it smells in here." Abby winced covering mouth and nose with her sleeve. She crossed the living room and opened a window, in an attempt to freshen the room. She pursed her lips and looked around the room, hoping to find the source of the smell. After a few moments of crawling on the floor on all fours, she found a plate with some sort of spoiled meat underneath the couch. As she reached for the plate, something else under the couch caught her was a long black box, taped directly onto the bottom of the couch. She slid the plate out first and threw the entire plate in the garbage, with no attempt to salvage the smelly porcelain dish. She quickly returned to the couch, and yanked on the box until it was free. It looked similar to a jewelry box, but not nearly as refined or polished looking. Eagerly she opened the box, but was initially confused at what she saw.

A needle.

_What would he need an unlabeled needle for-_

_Oh._

Her heart stopped. She had seen pictures of needles like this in an article that a former colleague wrote about the rise of addiction to opiates.

_He wouldn't. He's a brilliant man like himself wouldn't need this._

Abby tried to convince herself there was an explanation, but when she couldn't find one she knew what she had to do. She ejected the contents of the needle into the toilet, and threw the needle and the box into one of Mrs. Hudson's bins. The entire time she raked through her brain for a reason, confident that there must be one.

She was laying in bed when she heard him come home. She heard his footsteps as he entered the living room, and everything fell silent for a few minutes. When she began to feel a pain in her chest she realized she had been holding her breath. She heard his footsteps again, but this time they were slowly ascending the stairs to her room. The door opened a crack, and light flooded into the room. Abigail turned over and looked at Sherlock, meeting his light blue eyes with her own. They stared at each other, unblinking, for a moment.

"Goodnight Abby."

"Goodnight Sherlock."


	18. A breakup

Valerie- Amy Winehouse

As soon as Sherlock opened the door to the flat he noticed two things; one that Abby was home, the second that Abby was drunk. She was sprawled out on the couch with a bottle of cheap Chardonnay in hand.

"Sherlock! You're.._h'ome!"_ She cried out, opening her arms to him, as though she expected a hug.

"..And you've been home all day drinking." He responded, still standing in the doorway.

She took a swig from the bottle,"Exactly."

"That man you were seeing broke up with you.. Chad."

"Chip. His name was Chiip."

"Dear God who names their child Chip.. that's like naming their child Sherlock."

Abby giggled, sitting up from the couch, "Exactly."

"He was seeing someone was about to lose his job anyway."

"You KNEW he he was seeing another woman and you didn't tell me!?" Abby yelled, pushing him on the shoulder.

"No need to be a violent drunk. She wasn't the other woman, you were the other woman."

"I don't even want to know how you know that." She grumbled, taking another sip.

"I went through his phone the other day when he was over. He had pictures dating back 2 years into the present of one woman saved on his phone." He reached over and took the bottle from her, "Snooping helps a lot, you should have snooped."

"We only dated for three months." Abby sighed, "I have horrible luck with men."

Sherlock took a tentative sip,"It's our fault, not yours, we are just horrible, we cant help it."

She studied Sherlock's face, hoping there was deeper meaning behind his words,"Valerie. Her name was Valerie."

"Unfortunately, that IS a pretty name. Unlike our dear friend Chip."

Abby reached back for the bottle, "Ugh. I know"

"How about we find Valerie's email, and type her a lovely letter about dear Chip." Sherlock suggested as he held the bottle away from her. "It is a lot more productive than drinking.


	19. A Disagreement

How to Be a Heartbreaker-Marina and the Diamonds

It was past noon when Abby shuffled into the living room, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"You were out late last night." Sherlock mentioned, not looking up from his laptop.

Abby yawned,"I was working late last night."

"Mmmm. No you weren't."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms,"I was working relatively late and met some people after."

"Yes.. and then you.."

"Nothing. I did nothing."

"Smells like you did something." Sherlock sighed.

"Ew, that's disgusting!"

Sherlock gave her a look of annoyance, "Meaning you smell like cologne."

"I did nothing too bad." She mumbled, walking into the kitchen.

"Snogging? With a coworker? That's not too good."

Abby peered out from the kitchen, "How did you know?"

"It's Kevin isn't it? From work? It's his cologne."

"He's just a friend. I don't even like him like that."

Sherlock sighed, "He likes you like that."

Abby returned from the kitchen with tea, "How would you even know?"

"The way he looked at you when you had that small dinner party here a few weeks ago."

"What would you know about the way people feel when they look at you." She spat. Her tone way more aggressive than she intended.

Sherlock's face twitched just slightly, and Abby felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"I notice a lot Abigail, I notice almost everything." Sherlock responded quietly.

"I disagree." Abby muttered as she turned around and ascended the stairs to her room.


	20. Sleep Walking

Losing My Religion-R.E.M

It was 3 in the morning when Sherlock heard footsteps coming down the steps from Abby's room. He was still up, working on a case regarding a bank robbery.

"It was either the manager of the bank, or one of the tellers. It was an inside job." Sherlock announced out loud.

When he was given no reply, he looked up from the series of pictures he had splayed out before him, "You're up early."

Abby was standing in the middle of the room, with her hair sticking wildly out from her head, and her pajamas disheveled on her frame.

"Do you need something? Am I talking out loud again?" Sherlock asked, confused by the silence.

It wasn't until he saw the lack of expression in her face, and her partly closed eyes he realized what was happening.

_She's sleepwalking._

Abby had mentioned how she would sleepwalk when she was a girl, but she grew out of it long ago. Sherlock had never witnessed a sleepwalker first hand before, although he knew not to wake them up.

"Abby?" Sherlock asked, standing up and slowly walking towards her.

Sherlock stopped and took this opportunity to admire her features, something he had not bothered doing. She was pretty, but not gorgeous, she was unique. When he was up close he could see a light dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks, something that she hid with makeup during the day. She was beginning to get wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, where her face creased as she laughed, something Sherlock had noticed she did often. He could see the metal of a retainer in her mouth, as it was slightly ajar, and drool was beginning to drip down her chin.

"Alright Abigail, let's get you to bed." Sherlock sighed, as he gently took hold of her arm.

"You take the shuttle.. Then get on the one. Then get off on the stop after Penn Station." Abby mumbled, as she stumbled forward, letting herself be led by Sherlock.

Sherlock guided her up the steps, "Alright Abby."

She stumbled when she got to the top step, but Sherlock caught her before she fell.

"It's windy up here." She softly groaned, as Sherlock sat her on the bed.

Sherlock gently pushed her back onto the bed,"I know it is."

"I've always wanted a cat."

Sherlock pulled her blankets over her, "Me too."

"A white one."

Sherlock patted her head, "Alright darling."

_Darling_

That word did not fit in his mouth. It felt alien to him. he instantly recoiled his hand away from her head, as though he was burned.

He hurriedly walked back down the stairs, eager to return to his work. His work, his wife.

_You are married to your work Sherlock Holmes._


	21. Phone Home

Home- Edward Sharp and The Magnetic Zeros

It was the caustic thickness of her accent that drew Sherlock out of his mind palace. Sherlock opened his eyes, annoyed at the interruption, and glared silently at Abby. She was pacing back and forth anxiously, something she usually did when she was on the phone. The thickening of her New York accent indicated she was talking to someone from home, and the shrillness in her voice meant it was her mother.

"Ma, I'm tellin' you. I'm busy. I don't have the time, or the money, to be going over to New York. I'll see you during the holidays."

"You'll make some up some excuse and not go over then either." Sherlock chimed in.

Abby shot him a look, "That's no one ma, just a roommate."

"So I am someone."

Abby gave him the middle finger and turned around, "No ma.. I just live with him. Nothing like that.. I have to go Ma.. Bye.. yes I know bye.. alright ma.. bye.. I have work ... goodbye... no i heard you.. bye. okay yes i remember. bye. I LOVE YOU TOO MA. BYE."

Abby picked up a pillow off of a chair and hurled it at his head, "Why did you speak!? You're giving her ideas!"

Sherlock caught the pillow, "You interrupted me. Mind palace. I need quiet."

She rolled her eyes, and sunk into the chair sighing, "Unbelievable."

"Why don't you want to go home? You've been in London for about a year. Don't you miss your family?"

Abby shrugged, playing with her nails, "I dunno. I just like it here better."

"Okay." Sherlock responded, not interested in pressing her any further.

"Do you like your family?" She asked.

Sherlock squirmed a little in his seat, "My family and I are complicated. I do like the house I grew up in though."

"What was that like?"

"Warm. It always smelled like food cooking. Relatively big as well. We had long hallways with wood floors. Mycroft and I would run along the floors with just our socks on, and slide all the way down the hall." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, involuntarily smiling at the idea.

"That sounds nice." Abby sighed.

"It was."

"You don't smile often." Abby noted, "Unless it's about a case."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is. I pay attention to that sort of thing."

Sherlock shrugged, "It's not my best feature."

"I think it's nice."

"Really?" Sherlock asked, comically grinning causing his face and eyes to scrunch up.

Abby laughed, "Gorgeous! Go ahead and walk outside like that!"

Sherlock chuckled, "Thank you, maybe I will."

She smiled and stood up, stretching, "Alright Sherlock, I'll let you get back to the work. Thank you for cheering me up."

Sherlock watched disappear up the steps. He couldn't remember a time anyone had ever told him he had cheered them that what he had done? Cheered her up? It was so effortless though.


	22. Stumbling Home

All These Things I've Done- The Killers

Abby had decided to spend her Friday night in. John had mentioned he was taking Sherlock out for celebratory drinks, so Abby had decided to use the empty flat as an opportunity to get work done. It was a little before midnight when she heard the door to 221 Baker Street open. Abby glanced at her watch.

_That's odd. It's still so early._

She heard a commotion as the attempt up the stairs was made.

"Put me down.. JOHN!"

Abby quickly closed her laptop and hurried for the door. As she opened it, she saw a tipsy John attempting to drag a very drunk Sherlock Holmes up the stairs.

"What the hell is going on?" Abby laughed, putting her hands on her hips, "How did you get him so drunk?!"

Sherlock looked up at Abby, his eyes were red and glossy, "It was.. It was an experiment.. Abigail!"

John grunted as he continued to force Sherlock up the steps, "Tequila shots. He had tequila shots for the first time."

"Jesus how many did he have?" She asked, rushing down the steps to help John.

"Seven. He was fascinated by the proce-."

Sherlock interrupted."No, TEN. I had a few while you were in the loo John. Forgive me John."

They got him through the door and into the chair.

John brushed his hands on the front of his shirt and looked around, "Well I'm off then."

"What!? You're leaving me with him?" Abigail cried, pointing to Sherlock.

"I can hear youu. You knoow?" Sherlock slurred.

Abby ignored him and turned to John with her arms crossed.

John sighed, turning around and heading for the front door,"I have a wife. Waiting for me in bed. If you can catch my hint. Just make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit."

"Alright Mr. Holmes," she sighed, turning towards the detective, "what am I going to do with you?"

"I dunno."

She untied the scarf from around his neck, then pulled off his shoes, throwing everything into a pile in the corner.

"How do you feel Sherlock?" She asked, reaching a finger under his chin and pulling his face towards her.

"MmmMMm. Drunk."

"I could imagine."

Abby sighed and went into her room, appearing a minute later with a head band. She slipped it over the detectives head and slid it back up, pulling the his curls out of his face.

"What are you doing?" He asked, confused.

"You're going to throw up soon."

"No I'm not."

Sherlock threw up six times that night. Each time, Abby was behind him, patting his back with a glass of water in hand. He woke up the next morning on the floor of the bathroom, with his shirt entirely unbuttoned and vomit covering his pants from when he missed the toilet. As he looked around the room, dazed, he found Abby asleep in the bathtub next to him, softly snoring.


	23. Breaking Point

Author's note. Due to his recent passing, this chapter is dedicated to David Bowie. David Bowie is a music icon who will never be surpassed. He was never afraid to push boundaries. He was a pioneer in pop, performing, and sexuality. I am taking this opportunity to explore Abby as a more complex character. I don't want her to be just a happy go lucky woman. I want her to snap every once in a while, just like John has before. Who wouldn't have a melt down living with Sherlock Holmes?

Life on Mars?-David Bowie

"My cousin is getting married!" Abby squealed as she read the "save the date" that was in her hands.

"You sound excited." Sherlock said sarcastically, annoyed by the shrillness in her voice.

Abby smiled at him and looked at the back of the card, "Oh! We were so close growing up! Of course I'm happy for her."

"Do we not hear from her now because she feels neglected and hurt that you packed up and left your continent because you couldn't stand to be near that boy that broke your itty bitty heart?"

Abby's smile instantly changed into a hard line and her eyes grew cold. She opened her mouth to speak,and Sherlock could tell by the hateful look in her eyes, she was ready to spew acidic words. Instead, she just closed her mouth and ran into her room slamming the door behind her. Within seconds of the door slamming, Sherlock heard loud crashing, and the sound of breaking glass. Sherlock stood up immediately, stunned by the loud noise. The flat fell silent for a minute, and all Sherlock could hear was the sound of his heart beating in his chest. Then the silence was pierced by a screech, "_FUUUUUCK!"_

Sherlock heard rustling coming from Abby's room, as he slowly made his way to her room. As he reached for the door handle, it swung open, revealing a very emotional Abby. Her face was red, with big tears streaming down her cheeks. Sherlock noticed she was wearing her backpack which was stuffed haphazardly with clothes and toiletries.

"What's going on?" Sherlock asked peering into the room. The lamp that once stood on Abby's nightstand was now in pieces on the floor across the room. All of her books were scattered throughout the room as well as the contents of the memory box she kept under the bed.

"Sherlock," Abby started, visibly doing her best to keep her emotions under control, "I told you about those things that hurt me most, assuming that for once in your life you would be a compassionate human being. However, I was wrong. I'm busy at work. I don't need you constantly shooting me down. I'm staying at a hotel for a few nights. I'll be back in a few days."

Sherlock nodded, and silently watched her descend down the stairs, and leave the flat.

When Abby returned to an empty flat 3 days later, her room had been cleaned and put back together. Every shard of glass had been swept up, every book was in the right place, and all the contents of her box had been put back.

There was a letter placed neatly on her bed:

_Sorry-SH_


End file.
